


Nights Like These

by Morgana



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He lives for nights like these</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nights Like These

Nights like these are made for sex. Not sweet lovemaking, with hands moving slowly over bare skin and tender endearments whispered in his lover's ear, the way he's done with countless women spread out beneath him, but something else entirely. Nights like these are for fucking, for losing himself in the raw, animal need that spurs both him and the hard body behind him on, both of them grunting and growling together, forgetting everything but the driving rhythm of sex. It's about the hard thrust of a cock inside him, the calloused hand around his dick that jerks him with every shove forward, rough strokes that strip him of any semblance of control, and the filthy words that make him harder than he's ever been before.  
  
Nights like these, no woman in the world could satisfy him. But he can't tell his girlfriend that, can't explain the shameful need that sends him slipping out into the darkness, so he does what he does best - he lies. Tells her that he's going out with 'the boys' and hopes she doesn't realize that he hasn't spent any real time with his buddies in months. She believes him, of course, and sends him off with a kiss and a reminder to call her later, and he smiles and waves just before he drives off to betray her.   
  
He used to go to bars - dark little hole in the wall type of places, where he could get his needs met, but that was before a shoving match took a turn he'd never expected it to. Oh, he'd tried to play it straight, tried to pretend outrage and splutter some kind of threat, but when a hard mouth cut him off and a knowing hand slid down to take hold of him, he hadn't been able to keep up the pretense. His body wouldn't have allowed it if he'd tried, not when his dick was pressing urgently against his pants, pushing into the fist that curled around it like a dog begging to be petted.  
  
Sometimes he still hears that low, dirty laugh that rang out when his need had registered with the other man. The sound had made him even harder, and by the time his pants had been open and shoved down, his dick was slippery and shining with precome. He'd gone easily when he was turned around to grab the stone ledge behind him, bending over without needing to be told, and he'd been rewarded for it almost immediately. Fingers had worked their way up inside him, followed soon by another hard dick, pushing in to rearrange his whole worldview.  
  
That was the first time they'd fucked, but definitely not the last. He's come to look forward to these nights now, particularly when he knows they're going to end up like this, with him bent over the nearest flat surface, gasping and moaning like a bitch in heat, shoving back against an inhumanly hard cock while his own neglected dick throbs painfully. He's not allowed to touch anymore - he either comes while he's getting fucked or he has to wait until he's alone in the shower afterwards, with one hand wrapped around his leaking erection and the other fondling the marks on his shoulder. Not that it's really a problem, since he almost always goes off like a Roman candle when -  
  
Fangs slide into his shoulder, needle-sharp and precise, and pain adds jagged edges to pleasure. He shudders, and then another hard thrust sends him screaming over the edge, colors swirling in front of him as he bucks under the hands that hold him still, fingers digging into his flesh while he comes until he's weak with it. He'll have bruises in the morning, but that doesn't matter, not on nights like these, not when the heavy slap of skin against his ass ends in a low groan as the cock inside him begins to throb and shoot. It's soothing, even when it begins to leak out, trickling over sweaty skin in a slimy trail that used to make him sick with guilt at his depravities. Now it just makes him want to do it all over again as soon as possible.  
  
He's empty now, aching for more even as his body protests the hard fucking and bite in equal measures. He'll pay for this tomorrow, but he's come his brains out now, and he doesn't care. A hand reaches for his shoulder and turns him over, and he looks up to see the feline gaze of a predator's yellow eyes fade into the concerned deep blue stare of a man. "You all right there?"  
  
Speech is beyond him at the moment, so he settles for nodding and doesn't argue when Spike goes to get a washrag and starts to clean them both up. The slow sweep of damp terrycloth eases his nerves back down from the dizzying heights he'd been flung up into, and he sighs. He'll get up and leave soon, and the next time they come across each other, they'll spit and shove and work themselves into a frenzy, just waiting for another night like this. But for now, he's content to lay still and let himself be tended to.  
  
Nights like these, Riley wonders if he knows who the monsters are anymore. Because it's hard to remember when Spike tosses the washrag into the bathroom and crawls back into the bed with him, curling up next to him to trace his mark with first fingers and then tongue. As always the caress sends electric sparks down to his dick, the sensation just this side of too much in the wake of his orgasm, and he knows it won't be long before he's ready to go again. He shivers and reaches down to curl his fingers around Spike's cock, stroking it back to hardness, and tells himself yet again that he'll put an end to this... tomorrow.


End file.
